


Heliocentric

by Villinye (AslansCompass)



Category: Doctor Who, Sherlock (TV)
Genre: AU, Crossover, Gen, WMG, Wholock
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-21
Updated: 2014-02-21
Packaged: 2018-01-13 05:47:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,136
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1214974
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AslansCompass/pseuds/Villinye
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock doesn't care that the Earth revolves around the sun. Nor does he remember that he once traveled the stars.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Heliocentric

**Author's Note:**

> In this universe, the Doctor hasn't had the Time War yet. Think AU Six or Seven for timing, but the character is original.

 

He didn’t know why everyone is so cross with him. Can’t they see it–the teacher’s affair, his babysitter’s eating disorder, Dad lying about working late at the office? They should thank him for showing them what they’re too thick to see. Sherlock swung back and forth, ignoring the other children’s sullen glares.

A wind swirls around the sandbox, raising a miniature dust devil. But it wasn’t just a wind, it couldn’t be, because the bushes nearby weren’t affected. He kept watching as a blue box materialized and someone stepped out. Hazel eyes pepped out under slicked-back brown hair, wearing his plaid silk vest with chestnut buttons, white dress shirt and dark slacks with causal grace. “Hey, boy, where am I?”

Sherlock stared him. _25 to 30, but his eyes are older. And his box..._ “Do you mean when are you? 1987.”

“Not where, but when? Oh, you’re good,” The man gestured to his box. “Let’s see what you make of that.”

The boy hopped off the swing and stepped up to the box, letting the door swing in. For a moment, he just stared at the leopard-print walls. “Not dimensionally consistent. The interior dimensions exceed the exterior dimensions. Could be military, I suppose, but you don’t seem the military type.”

And the man’s quiet smile (as he would learn later) was a shout of approval. “Fancy a trip?”

\---------------------------------------------------------  
“Those metal monsters--“

“Cybermen?” The Doctor corrected.

“They have wires and circuits instead of physical bodies, right? Why don’t we just soak ‘em?”

“Well,” he considered it. “Actually, not a bad idea. And I do have a water pistol in my vest. How’d you come up with that idea?”

“It’s simple science,” Sherlock panted. “Besides, I’m having trouble keeping up with all this running.

\---------------------------------------------------------  
Lady President Romana was always talking about inviting other species to study at the Time Academy. The Council, of course, resisted, but that lot of hide-bound fancy dressers was no match for her.

The Doctor’s friend Romana kept pestering him about putting that boy in a proper educational program.

He made everyone happy by dropping off Sherlock at the Academy the day Romana’s reforms went into effect. At least, until Sherlock opened his mouth.  
\----------------------------------------------------------------------

After the initiation ceremonies finished, the new Academy members were ushered into the building to begin their studies. A few members of the Council remained behind to veil the gap until the next ceremony, but a wailing cry convinced them to abandon the task.

The Untempered Schism, still open, glowed in the night. Sherlock crept out from behind a boulder, smirking at the Time Lords’ cowardice.

“You aren’t a Time Lord, you don’t have to attend the ceremony, “ the one named Braxiatel had informed him earlier that day. “In fact, I forbid you from attending.”

No two glimpse of the Untempered Schism are ever the same.

Some are inspired.

Some go mad.

Some flee.

When they finally found him an hour later, Sherlock was scribbling notes for a thesis on “flaws in Rassalon’s theory of relative dimensions.”

\---------------------------------------------------------

“Well, long time no see, my boy,” the Doctor stepped out of the TARDIS and smiled at Sherlock. “I hear you’ve been causing quite a bit of commotion at the Academy.”

“They simply have no respect for common sense,” Sherlock sniffed. “And their fashion sense is atrocious. Keep trying to force me into one of those long robes.”

“I remember those days.” The Doctor shook his head. “A short trip? Just a short break?”

“Doctor?” Someone called. “Is this Sherlock?” A young girl with shoulder-length dark hair, wearing a Greek tunic, stepped out of the TARDIS.

“He…hello?” Sherlock stammered.

“Sherlock, Iris. Iris, Sherlock. I rescued her from the library at Alexandria, and no, don’t look at me that way, it wasn’t my fault. There were this Ice Warriors, you see---“ His voice trailed off as he assessed the pair. “Though you don’t seem to mind much.”

\-------------------------------------  
Golden light was everywhere, flooding the room. “What’s happening?” Iris whispered, but Sherlock’s mind was only half on the complicated explanation he was giving her. _A real regeneration, a fascinating bio-chemical process unique to one race in the galaxy, and he was here to witness it._

“Are you sure he’ll be okay?”

Sherlock smiled at Iris. “It’s just what they do, he’ll be–“ A flaming tendril sparked wires in the control panel. “The materialization panel! If that blows!” He kissed Iris on the cheek and sprang to the console. “Just a quick rewiring–“

Another tendril of flame sizzled through the air, snapping against Sherlock’s heart.

“Sherlock!” Iris screamed. “Doctor!”

The Doctor’s glow dimmed, slowly reshaping itself into a curly ginger-haired stringbean of a man. He rushed up to the console and pulled out his screwdriver to check the readings. “Oh. Oh, that’s bad. “

“What is?”

“A Metacrisis.”

\------------------------------  
The Doctor pressed his hands against Sherlock’s forehead. “I’m sorry, my boy, so sorry. But I have to–“

“I know you do,” he grunted. “I know everything you do, remember. Pity, though, my notes on regeneration would revolutionize–Ah!” His muscles sagged, but the Doctor caught him half-way down.

“Doctor, what happened?” Iris whispered. “I don’t understand.”

The Doctor set Sherlock on the floor, loosening the boy’s scarf so he could breathe more easily. “Human minds are like attics or cellars, they only have so much space in them. That regeneration energy gave him some of my memories. Normally he could cope–it wasn’t that much, but with Sherlock–“ he paused. “He notices everything. He’s seen stars and satellites and Time itself at the Untempered Schism. So I had to erase some memories, to make room.”

“Which ones?”

“I was just trying to take out the ones that were mine, the ones he wasn’t supposed to have.” The Doctor stared at the floor. “But they were too interwoven, I didn’t have time to separate them. I removed them, but also his memories of us.”

“Us?” Iris shivers. “No. No…please, no.”

“I’m sorry, Iris,” the Doctor holds her for a moment. “But he’s going to have to leave.”  
\------------------------------------

Sherlock sat in the library, paging through the encyclopedia. He hadn’t run away from home, no matter what anyone else said. Why couldn’t they remember that he’d been at boarding school the last three years? Must not have been a very good one though; couldn’t remember learning anything there.

Starlight shone in through the windows, with one particularly bright star seeming to wink at him. Not that he knew the North Star from the North Pole, but it was pretty enough.

 _“Look, it doesn't matter to me who's Prime Minister, or who's sleeping with who-“_  
“Or that the earth goes around the sun.”  
“Oh God, that again! It's not important!”  
“Not important? It's primary school stuff! How can you not know that?”  
“ Well, if I ever did, I've deleted it.”

  
  



End file.
